It’s foggy this morning, it’ll probably burn off later in the day but I’m always amused when people talk about ‘London fog’ because it’s not often foggy. There was smog in the days before the Clean Air Act, which Ma remembers but fog is not a standard weather condition in modern London. It’s strange, stepping out of the house into misty darkness, but it was how I started the morning and felt reflection of how I feel today, my brain doesn’t feel like it’s functioning at capacity. I’m tired and busy and I could really do with a holiday. A week when I can sleep lots and only get out of bed when it’s daylight. (This is middle age, people, fantasising about sleep!)

As you can plainly see by my meandering prose, I’m struggling a bit this week. It’s traditionally the time of year, I find hardest to navigate emotionally and I’m trying really hard to keep up with everything that needs to be done at home and work for the run up to Christmas. I had a conversation with a colleague this morning where we talked about being so tired you just burst into tears. I’m at the stage where I need to narrate my way through tasks because I don’t really remember how to do them. I have lots of lists and am drinking more coffee than usual.